


Newt Scamander's Crash Course in Magizoology

by iamalivenow



Series: The Education of Credence Barebone [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: #GiveCredenceAHug2K16, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Credence Centric, Cuddling, Emotional Manipulation, Fix-It, Fluff, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Rating May Change, Relationship(s), Self-Hatred, Sharing Clothes, Slow Burn, baths, this is how i show my love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:57:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8602747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamalivenow/pseuds/iamalivenow
Summary: Newt Scamander has a menagerie in his suit case, a soft smile, and a caring nature. Credence needs all of that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love this movie, it was much better then it had any right to be.
> 
> So here's a fic where Newt saves Credence before Graves could get to him. 
> 
> I hope you like it!
> 
> not beta'd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orientation

“Credence!” The man has one of his hands up, the other at his waist clutching a suitcase that looks worn and old but probably worth more then anything Credence has ever touched with his own hands. “It is Credence, isn't it?” He watches the man. He's nothing outstanding, only slightly familiar, maybe they saw each other on the street at some point. But now, with himself being spread across a wall, he had an opportunity to get a better look at him.  
  
Thin, pale, slight, that's a good word to describe him. He's hunched over, clutching the case with white knuckles. He sees something move under his clothes. Several somethings moving quickly in a panic. He wants to look closer but he stays to the wall, the ceiling.  
  
“I'm here to help you, Credence. I'm not here to hurt you.” He's very believable. His voice is soft, gentle, kind. It's enough to let himself down to the floor again. Credence only know realizes he's shaking with the sensation of it all. It's a lot, a bit much.  The man takes a few slow steps closer to the main concentration of Credence, the most corporeal part of him.  
  
“I met someone just like you, Credence.” No, Credence shakes his head, that's not true, not possible. Graves said- Graves said he was- Of course that was just another thing he lied about. “A girl- A young girl who'd been imprisoned, she'd been locked away and punished for her magic.” He gets low on the ground and Credence looks at him. The bigger part of himself has sunk back under his skin. He stares at the man.  
  
“Credence, can I come over to you? Can I come over?” Credence nods before he can think about what he did. The man is slow, like Credence is something dangerous, which, hey, turns out he is. A violent spike of fear hits him and the big part rips out of him. He wraps his arms around himself and stares at the floor. “Take deep breaths, Credence. I know it's terrifying, I do, but you have to breathe.” Credence shakes but he tries, God does he try. The man is almost in touching distance, one hand outstretched to him.  
  
“Credence-” Credence lets him touch his shoulder. It's so soft. Like Graves was with him- before he- before- Another spike of rage shoots out to the right, further down the tunnel. “Credence, listen, listen to me.” Credence matches his gaze for a second, before his eyes shoot back down. “Do you remember Tina? Tina Goldstein? The tall woman with the short brown hair?” The memory flashes through his mind quickly.  
  
“Yes.” It's barely a sound but the man looks elated.  
  
“Do you want to see her, Credence? Do you want to see her right now?” Credence nods.  
  
“Good, good.” There's noise further down the tunnel that makes both of them turn their heads to stare. “This next part is going to sound very strange, but if you want to see Tina, you have to get into the suit case.” Credence stares, wide eyed and confused before the man opens the case and Credence doesn't see a bottom to it. “You have to go quickly, Credence, please.” It doesn't sound like the man begs a lot.  
  
“I don't-”  
  
“I know, I know it's all very confusing, but please, she's waiting, Credence.” The man makes a sharp hand movement. The footsteps, and they are footsteps, grow louder.  
  
“I-” He doesn't trust himself to talk so he nods and the man takes his hand and helps him into the case with no bottom.  
  
It's a spiral staircase, it turns out. As soon as he's standing at his full height on a tiny step, the case closes. There's a lot of noise outside. He doesn't really know what to think about it. He walks down further, his coat gets caught on one of the lower rungs and as he tries to free it, he tears a hole into it. He feels a sob rise up his throat. He doesn't know why this, of all the- why this makes him cry, but he's sobbing in earnest now, holding onto his ripped coat like it's the only real thing around him.  
  
“Credence?” It's her voice, and he spins too look at her. “Are you hurt?” She asks, a wand, a real, real, real, wand in her hand. He doesn't know what to do, but he feels the ground pull up from under him and he's on the floor now, crying with his ripped coat, in a suit case.  
  
“Oh, honey.” Another woman, he thinks, it's a high voice, calls from the same doorway Ms. Goldstein is standing. It makes him nervous, it's too much, to, to, to much, and he feels himself start vibrating again. He doesn't want to! Not now! He doesn't want to hurt her, but he can't help himself, it just happens and he feels himself become larger, slowly spreading through the air until he... he hits something? When he can concentrate enough to look, he's surrounded by a shiny sphere. He pounds against it, he doesn't like this, but he can't get out.  
  
“Credence, it's just to keep us safe.” Ms. Goldstein tells him. “Just until you calm down.” Her voice isn't nearly as stable as it was when she saved him the first time. It hurts to think, to concentrate on anything, so he just lashes against the thing, to tire himself out. It takes him a while, and he hates it! Hates every part of this! Not knowing what's going on really upsets him. When he's too tired, he settles on the ground and reassembles, slumped against the thing.  
  
“Credence, honey, can you talk?” The higher voice asks. “It's alright if you can't, yet.” She says quickly.  
  
“Queenie don't you dare.” Ms. Goldstein says automatically. “Newt might need us, you can't set him off again.” Like he's a thing that's not safe.  
  
“Tina, look at him.” She says. “He needs someone-”  
  
“Newt will know what to do, alright--” At that exact moment, there's a sharp knock on the roof. “Go.” She hisses. Then much softer, to him, she says, “Credence, we'll be back soon, alright?”  
  
“Don't leave-” Me, Me alone, he doesn't know what he means but he doesn't get to say anything else.  
  
“We're not, Mr. Kowalski will wait with you. He's just in the other uh, room? He'll make sure nothing happens to you, just, wait for us, alright?” And before he can answer she's gone. Credence finally opens his eyes, or maybe the've been open but he can see know? Either way, he opens his eyes.  
  
The room is cluttered, aside from the floor, stacks and shelves to the ceiling, he's surrounded by the weirdest stuff he's ever seen.  Magic things, he realizes. He doesn't touch anything, though. Maybe his mo- that woman was right, magic was awful. He certainly hasn't had a good experience with is. The shiny thing is still up, and when he puts his fingers up against it, it feels cool. He can't really get up, the thing is pretty low, but he doesn't really trust his legs right now anyway. His coat is still ripped though, and his separation only made the rip worse. He feels tears roll out of his eyes. Graves gave it to hi-  
  
He throws the thing as far away as he can from himself, but its not- it isn't far enough away, and the memory rushes him. Two years ago, New Years, he took him to a fancy store, had him try on three or four before he found one he liked and slid it onto Credence's shoulders, held his hands at his side longer then he needed to. It had been so warm, so soft, the coat and the touch and--  
  
His back rips out another stab at the wall with a yell. He doesn't want it anywhere near him, he- he- he feels sick just thinking about, he doesn't- No, it- He yells again, a single shout. A man stumbles into the doorway. Credence meets his gaze and looks from him to the coat then back at him again and yells, crying. Everything looses feeling when he vibrates out of a form, his body taking up the entire space of the orb, and it's tight, it's too tight!  
  
When he calms down again, the man is still standing in the doorway, Mr. Kowalski, Ms. Goldstein had said. The man walks over to the barrier, slowly. He's terrified, Credence realizes after a bit. Credence is too.  
  
“I'm Jacob.” The man says. Credence doesn't know what to do so he nods. “Did something, uh,  upset you?” Credence stares at the coat before shaking his head. “Okay, sure.” The man sounds incredulous, he has a smile on his face, which throws Credence more then anything else. “Let's see.” He walks over to where the coat is and tries to grab it, but the barrier is two way, apparently. “Okay, uh, where do you think Newt keeps poles? He has to have them somewhere, right, what with the whole-” He trails off, gesturing behind him.    
  
“I-”  
  
“Give me a minute.” The man nods and disappears behind the doorway again. Credence doesn't know what to do with himself, so he settles for stretching his legs out. He moves too quickly, with out concentrating, and his legs stop being solid. “That must get confusing.” The man is back, his voice sounds chipper. He's spinning a piece of metal in his hands. “Or really impressive, maybe?” He asks, giving Credence a wink.  
  
“Not- not really.”  
  
“Well, I'm pretty impressed.” He gets down and sticks the pole down at the very base of the barrier. “To be fair, I'm easy to impress though.” It slips through, and he hooks the coat on it, pulling it away from Credence. He can breathe a little easier now. “I'm kind of new to this whole thing, so- but then, I guess you are too? I'm running on seventy percent of the information they have.” He points up.  
  
“I don't-”  
  
“Don't strain yourself.” The man smiles. Jacob. Mr. Kowalski. Mr. Kowalski smiles at him. “I'm a no-maj.”  
  
“I don't know what that is.” He mumbles.  
  
“No magic.” He sounds almost proud about it.  
  
Credence wishes he was so lucky. 

  
  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ

  
  
Ms. Goldstein comes back down the stair case a few hours later. Mr. Kowalski, who strongly insisted that Credence call him Jacob, had tried his best to keep his spirits up, but Credence felt loose and unstable and tired through most of it. He might have even fallen asleep a couple of times. Ms. Goldstein undid the barrier quickly, with one wave of her wand. The other woman isn't here and the man isn't either.  
  
“Would you like to come upstairs, Credence?” She asks instead of whatever he was expecting. Credence doesn't know what he wants, so he goes. Mr. Kowalski follows him up the stairs. They aren't in the subway anymore, instead he ends up in a small apartment building. It's very cosy, filled with a lot of things in warm colors. The other woman, presumably, is busy doing something in the kitchen and the man is sitting on the couch.  
  
“Credence.” He says, in the same soft voice he used earlier. It's dark outside already, there's a fire going. “Are you alright?”  
  
“No.” He says and a hand flies up to his mouth. He was distracted, he didn't think. “I'm sorry.”  
  
“No, no, it's alright.” The other woman insists from her spot in the kitchen. “No one's mad. Not at you.”  
  
“Queenie.” Ms. Goldstein says. The other woman doesn't react, just keeps going at whatever it is she's doing.  
  
“Credence.” The man says and Credence turns to look at him. “My name is Newt.” He says. “Are you okay, physically, at least? Does anything hurt too much? Feel odd maybe?”  
  
“We just want to help.” Ms. Goldstein says.  
  
“Why don't you sit down, honey? You're probably tired after all of that.” He is. The woman, blonde, tall, slim and pretty moves out of the kitchen, and with a wave of a wand a chair moves out from the table for him. He sits. “There you go, better already.” She smiles wide at him, and he feels lightheaded from it.  
  
“Credence.” Ms. Goldstein asks abruptly. “There's really no way to be subtle about this, do you know what's happening to you?” Credence looks down at his hands.  
  
“How would he?” The blonde woman asks? She sits across from him, and puts a cup of something in front of him that gives off warm steam.  
  
“You're an obscurial.” Mr. Newt says as he gets up from the couch and moves to sit next to the blonde woman. “It's a creature that exists because of repressed magic.” A creature sounds right. He doesn't feel very human right now.  
  
“I have magic?” Credence mumbles? “Graves said- he called me a- a squid, he said-”  
  
“Squib.” Ms. Goldstein says.  
  
“He said I didn't have any magic, he said that I should be grateful I had anything at all, because of my-” He feels tears come to his eyes before he can stop himself.  
  
“No, Credence.” Mr. Newt shakes his head. “You have magic, a stupid amount of it, actually. Obscurials don't live past ten, the fact that you lived this long is a amazing. One of a kind, actually.”  
  
“Oh.” He can't process much of anything right now.  
  
“He's so tired.” The blonde woman says.  
  
“Maybe we should shelve this conversation for a later time?” Mr. Kowalski asks from his spot on the couch.  
  
“I think that's a great idea.” The blonde woman stands up, chipper. “Follow me honey, let's get you in a bed.”  
  
“Yeah, come on kid.” Mr. Kowalski follows her into another room. Credence looks at Ms. Goldstein and when she nods he looks at the man. He stares straight ahead and nods too. He gets up and follows them.  
  
They give him a white shift to wear to bed, so he pulls it on and crawls into the bed. The mattress is softer then any he's ever been on, and the blankets keep him warm. He burrows his face into pillow and closes his eyes. He's really very tired.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lesson 1: Personal Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say, the reception for this has been amazing?
> 
> Like wow? 
> 
> God? 
> 
> This is?
> 
> The best? 
> 
> Also, from henceforth, the chapters will be out of chronological order. Fair warning. 
> 
> Also, the updating won't be this quick, I don't want to set a false standard, I just was struck, so to speak, with inspiration. 
> 
> notbeta'd

There are days when Credence doesn't want to be human.  
  
It happens rarely, but it does happen. He wakes up in the morning and just feels awful. Useless, a waste of space, sick or cold or needy. It's a complete state of being for him, and when he wakes up to it, he wishes he didn't exist any more. His hands are always cold on those days, all of him is always cold on those days and no mater what he does, there's no way to get warm.  
  
Well, almost no way. He doesn't bother staying solid for most of the days like that. He did at first, though. He would try his hardest to remain corporeal for as long as possible because he thought it made Mr. Scamander- Newt happy, but- Well.  
  
When Ms. Goldstein, Queenie, Queenie, Queenie told him that sometimes Mr. Scamander- sometimes Newt thought of him as a creature he didn't really know what to do with himself. He expected to be more upset then he was, angry maybe? But it, no no no, reminded him, stop, of when, don't, of when Graves told him he was special, and it made him feel the same stupid, moronic, breathless way.  
  
Newt didn't keep eye contact with him, with anyone really. At first, Credence thought it was because he had been hurt the same way Credence was, abused, Ms. Goldstein said. It's not normal, he shouldn't normalize it. But when he asked Queenie about it, she said she never picked up on anything like that. It seemed rude to ask, and technically, he didn't ask, she just told him, like she always did. It wasn't his fault.  
  
No, Newt just didn't maintain eye contact with anyone other then his creatures. Credence didn't know why he was so particular about it, but he found himself not minding, being called a creature, never meeting his gaze, it was alright with him.  
  
On one particular morning, when he still tried to remain whole for as long as possible, he was just miserable. Thoughts of Graves followed him through the case as he watered the animals. Newt had started teach him how to care for them, it was the least he could do considering he was freeloading off of him. He had gotten to the Occamy nest when he was struck with a harsh memory of his mother- the women hitting his hands. He had spent to long with Graves, and, and, and...The loud hissing of the Occamy snapped him back to reality when he realizes he was vibrating.

He dropped the bucket on the ground and got his legs wet.  
  
“Credence?” And he'd awoken Newt too. He tries his hardest to keep it together but he can't help the noise as it peals out of his throat. “Credence are you alright?” The sob follows. God, he's so useless, so stupid, he can't even stay solid for five minutes with out falling apart and- “Credence?” Newt is kneeling down with him.  
  
“Sorry.” He can't muster more then a mumble. “Mr. Scamander.” He follows, as quickly as he can.  
  
“It's alright Credence, you've not done anything wrong.” He feels a hand on his face, soft and gentle and he's looking into Newt's eyes. “What's wrong?”  
  
“What isn't?” Credence pulls away from him, picking the bucket up and rushing away as quickly as he can. He can't have it happen again. He won't let it happen again. He's an adult, he can think for himself, he can remember to not let charming men with their soft hands touch him because it makes him go brain dead. Mr. Scamander isn't like Graves though, is he?  He doesn't want anything from Credence, at least as far as he can tell.  
  
He's been nothing but kind to him. But then, so was Graves, and that was nothing but lies and pain, abuse, like Ms. Goldstein said, and he shouldn't normalize it, because it isn't right. He keeps repeating it to himself internally, so loudly, in fact, that he doesn't notice Newt following him.  
  
“You can talk to me, if something bothers you.” He says and makes Credence jump.  
  
“Nothing, sir. I'm alright.” Newt does something with his hands.  
  
“Do you even believe that?” Newt asks him, turning the spigot above the bucket. Credence braces it. “I don't mean anything by it, but if I'm the one catching you in a lie, you know it's bad.”  
  
“Sorry, sir.” He whispers, starring at the water as it hit the metal. When it's almost full, Mr. Scamander turns the spigot off. “I'll do better.” Newt laughs. Credence catches his eyes crinkle. No, no, no, no more of that. He goes back to the Occamy nest. Concentrate, concentrate, concentrate.  
  
“I can do that, if you're not feeling well.”  
  
“I've got it sir. Thank you.”  
  
“Credence.” Credence recognizes what that voice is, what that voice is supposed to do. He's heard it before, in the subway. It's the voice Newt uses when he wants him to do something. Credence notices him using it on some of the beasts as well. He hands Newt the bucket over in a sort of mute shock. Newt takes it with a slim smile on his face, hoists it up to where the water tube is. He has strong arms.  
  
Credence wonders what it would be like to be held by those strong arms.  
  
No.  
  
Stop it.  
  
This is what caused all of this in the first place.  
  
“You okay?” Newt calls him, snaps him back to reality. “You're shaking again.”  
  
“I don't- I don't know what to do.” He mumbles, starring down at his hands.  
  
“Hey, hey, it's alright.” Newt moves, puts his hands on Credence's shoulders and he can't help himself now, he phases a few steps back out of grabbing space. He feels blood rush to his face, up his chest, to his ears.  
  
“Sorry.” He can't bring himself to tack on a sir this time. He feels to loose again.  
  
“Credence, look at me.” His eyes snap up, and Newt hasn't moved, but eye contact is being made. God, what did he do to deserve this. Maybe his mother- that women was right. “Credence, if you need to be an obscuris, you can be an obscuris.” The ground slips from under him and he's incorporeal in a second, shooting straight up to the ceiling. It's like Newt opened the floodgates. “Stay like that however long you need.” Newt calls up to him and gets to work.  
  
Credence spirals around on the ceiling for what must be an hour, moving from room to room, playing with whatever creature notices him, watching Newt work from habitat to habitat. It's liberating. He never imagined being this sort of thing for his own comfort, for his own enjoyment, it was always out of fear or hate but now-  
  
Now he felt light and free and happy. Being here made him happy. It's an odd thing, to realize something so fundamental, but it hit him like crashing through pavement did. He doesn't need to be anything other then this. Himself. Free. Free and good and happy and safe and-  
  
“Newt, Credence,  hungry?” He hears Mr. Kowalski call him, and he falters, sinking down to the floor a little. Dripping down to the floor, more accurately.  
  
“We'll be up in a minute!” Newt calls back. “Credence?” He turns his head up to stare at the mass of him. He drips down to the floor and gathers himself as much as he can, but he doesn't stop vibrating at the edges. Newt looks at him for a bit before snapping his fingers. “Come here.” He goes. Newt takes his hand. It must feel odd, the man shivers a bit, the cold is permeable after all.  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
“No, it's alright. Here, as an obscuris.” Credence separates again. “Around me.”  
  
“Uh-” It sounds like thirty voices all at once, like something rapturous, he thinks for a moment, but he's been trying to leave religion behind him.  
  
“Come on.” Newt offers a smile to the part of Credence still in his hand, and Credence gathers himself up as best he can to coil around Newt. “Merlin, you're cold. No, no, don't go, it's alright. Comfortable?” Credence maybe nods? He can't control much right now, the length of him wrapped around Newt from ankle to shoulder, what would be his head on Newt's. “There you are then. Just don't go around my face, it'll be fine.”  
  
The creature comparison,  he realizes now, is apt. Horrifically so, when Mr. Kowalski sets the table for five. Newt shushes him when he start to vibrate out of distress and he stills almost immediately. Just like Newt's animals. Picket makes a hissing noise at one of them, and Credence remembers that he's not alone in leaching off of Mr. Scamander's body heat.  
  
It's a bit embarrassing how pointedly no one at the table mentions the mass of darkness coiled around Newt, just go on about their breakfast as if this was a normal thing. For all he knew it was a normal thing. It's not like he knew a lot about any of them. He knew they, him and Newt, were going to leave New York for a bit to go to Mexico. He knew that.  
  
At least. 

  
  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ

  
  
When he wakes up this morning, he doesn't want to be a person.  
  
It's a sharp realization that hits him almost immediately. They're on a boat to Italy, private room,  Newt on one bed, Credence on the other, the case, under a stack of heavy books strapped down between them. He doesn't have a lot of room to go, if he does separate now, but he does so anyway. He's learned to not think about it, most of the time, when he wakes up like this, his brain needs a brake from everything. He unfurls and goes up to the ceiling, letting himself stretch out as far as possible.  
  
The boat hits a rough wave and Newt wakes up. He startles when he sees the bed across from him empty and Credence feels guilty. For a moment, but only for a moment. He slips down quickly, pulling himself to a sitting position on the bed, solid. Newt blinks for a bit before nodding.  
  
“One of those days?”  
  
“Yes sir.” Newt waves a hand and Credence smiles before separating and coiling around him. He's gotten a lot better at it, full control of the obscuris. Graves would be jealous. Good. Fu- well no, let's not get out of hand. Newt is warm, he's always so warm and Credence stays attached to him through out the day.  
  
When he goes out of the room to get food, Newt undoes his shirt to allow him to hide under it, and that's his favorite thing in the world. Newt is so warm! Always so, so, so, warm, and his skin is soft and strong and solid, more solid that Credence ever has to be again. It's better. Better then anything else in the whole world. What would be his head rests on Newt's shoulder and he watches as Newt goes to the buffet, grabs a lot of everything, some with his wand, some with his hands and heads back to the shared room.  
  
The entire day is like this, a soft, slow sort of languish that he enjoys more then he wants to, will ever admit out loud. Newt knows though, he's good with that sort of thing. He spends the day tending to all of the creatures in the case. Credence can almost name all of them, and as Newt works he talks out loud, to him presumably, but Lord knows, about them. Their names, their habits, little details Credence tries to retain. He tries so hard too. When he thinks of Credence recently, Queenie tells him, he thinks almost exclusively of him like this. She looked concerned, but Credence didn't understand why. What's better then this?  
  
Arguably, though, the only thing that could ever hope to rival this is their night routine. He has to spend time human, Newt tells him. They are walking in new territory, best be safe. So when he shifts into human, into solid, and cold again Newt draws him a bath. He charms it warm and let's him spend hours in it.  
  
The tub on the boat is a small iron thing, and Credence is tall, both of them are, so when it's full he has to sit with his legs bent to his chest. He sits with his eyes closed, leaning against the wall and listens to Newt scratch at paper with a quill. He reads out loud, occasionally, when he has a full section and he needs to bounce ideas off of someone. Newt talks to him a lot, just like the rest of his creatures.  
  
Credence has a running theory that his voice is magic too, somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, sort of spoilers? I guess? I don't know? But I found this article, and as it seems relevant to so many of you, I thought I would add it here. But also, like I said, vague spoilers towards the second movie, maybe? 
> 
> http://geektyrant.com/news/cut-alternate-ending-from-fantastic-beasts-hints-at-where-the-sequel-is-headed
> 
> bless


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lesson 2: Identifying a Problem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thank you to everyone so far, because you are all so nice, it's wild!
> 
> I hope you like this chapter too!
> 
> notbetad

“Aren't you cold?” Mr. Kowalski asks him.  
  
“I'm alright, thank you, sir.” Credence is covered in flour up to his elbow. Mr. Scamander was busy consulting at MACUSA on something important with Ms. Goldstein. Someone had to watch him. Sure, they didn't actually say that, but Credence wasn't stupid enough to believe that wasn't what was happening.  
  
Helping Mr. Kowalski was an enjoyable way to spend his time, if he had to pick. He wasn't very good at it, but he could kneed the dough well enough. The shop was pretty cold when it rained outside though.  
  
He was used to it, after all.  
  
People walked in and out, and the front was almost consistently busy. Credence didn't go out a lot, but every now and again, he carried a slat of baked goods, doughnuts mostly, to the store front to set up a display. He technically wasn't supposed to, Ms. Goldstein was pretty clear on it, but Mr. Kowalski was busy and the hired help was still learning.  
  
The fear, Credence thought, was a wizard seeing him.  
  
That, as it turned out, wasn't it. No. The problem had nothing to do with magic, or a wizard reporting him to MACUSA or worse yet, a spy for Graves. He didn't know how they would connect the dots, but Graves was smart. Really smart. Credence figured his followers were probably not stupid.  
  
The problem was a Second Salemer seeing him.  
  
A very realized problem, it turns out, because one second he's busy trying to make a pyramid out of buns and the next thing he knows, he's being tackled to the floor.  
  
“Credence!” Mr. Kowalski drops what he's holding, a tray of tarts that go scattering to the floor, and bolts over to him. Who ever tackled him is ripped off of him quickly. “Back.” Mr. Kowalski hisses and Credence doesn't wait, he legs it into the back room and slams the door shut. Wisps of him are stuck on the other side of it, and he tries his hardest to pull them under the gap.  
  
He's gasping on the floor. Not now, not in public, sort of public, not where someone can see him and ruin everything. What was he supposed to do when something like this happened? He couldn't just magic his problems away, it's not like he had actual magic!  
  
He sits against the door to make sure it stays shut, and stares at his hand as it spreads out and turns into smoke. He twists it around and watches it attach and separate. It doesn't hurt, exactly. He doesn't really like looking at it though. It makes his head feel light. Like something wasn't working right.  
  
“Credence?” He jumps up and Mr. Kowalski is behind the door. “Everyone left, you can open the door.” He does. Mr. Kowalski pulls the Second Salemer behind him. “I locked up, don't worry.”'  
  
“I'm sorry, Mr. Kowalski.”  
  
“Jacob.” Mr. Kowalski says with a wave of his hand. “It's no big deal. Are you uh, solid?” Credence sticks up his hand. “For the most part will do just fine.” Credence wonders why he's being so casual about the whole thing. The Salemer, a huge man who's taller then both of them get's put into a chair and tied down. “You never know when you need rope.” Mr. Kowalski smiled at him and Credence just nodded. Clearly.  
  
“Mr. Kowalski, should I go get Queenie?”  
  
“Why do you call her- never mind. Newt should be by pretty soon, he'll be able to obliviate him.”  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
Newt is by a lot faster then either of them expected. He's got his case in one hand and wand in the other. He had a smile on, but that disappeared pretty quickly.  
  
“Going to be honest, not what I expected to walk in on.” He puts the case down on the floor by his feet as he spells the door shut.  
  
“He attacked Credence. He's a Second Salemer.”  
  
“Mr. Kowalski saved me.” They talk at the exact time, and Credence isn't sure if Newt understood either of them.  
  
“Good thing Jacob was here then.” Newt says, the hand holding the wand gripped it harder. “Do you know why he attacked you?” Credence shakes his head.  He hasn't been talking to them, he wanted nothing to do with them. Their ideologies or the memories. “Right well, let's wake him up then.” Credence shrugs.  
  
He doesn't want to. It makes him feel a bit sick thinking about it.  
  
“You!” The man's awake and angry, oh Lord, is he angry. He thrashes around in his chair. “You fucking cunt, what did you do to Mary Lou?! To everyone! All of them are fucking gone!”  Credence twists his hands together. He's not good with sort of thing.  
  
“Alright, listen.” Mr. Kowalski says. He picks up a crow bar.  
  
“Jacob-” Before Newt can stop him, he swings the thing into the man's gut. Credence has to turn around. He sort of squats down and puts his head between his knees. “Credence?”  
  
“I'm alright, Mr. Scamander.” He says and rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. Solid. Solid solid solid. Just hold yourself together. It's not hard. You've done it for most of your life. Solid solid solid.  
  
“Look at him.” Mr. Kowalski hisses. “He's a child, look at what you've done to him.” The man spits and Mr. Kowalski takes another swing at him. “Prick.” He mumbles.  
  
Together together together  
  
Solid solid solid  
  
one piece one mind one body  
  
“The piece of shit killed everyone!”  
  
“I didn't!” Credence yells. “I didn't!”  
  
“Credence, it's alri-” Mr. Scamander gets cut off.  
  
“Then where are they, you fucking freak!? Where are all the kids?! Where's Mary Lou!?”  
  
solid solid solid  
  
together together together  
  
one piece one mind one body  
  
together together together  
  
solid solid solid  
  
“What, you can't talk all of a sudden? What did you do to them?! You monster!”  
  
There's an overwhelming quiet in Credence's head. The kind that he's only heard once before, when Graves called him useless. A kind of all encompassing silence. It's what he imagines being in the middle of the ocean might sound like, not an ounce of noise for miles.  
  
The obscuris rips out off him like he's paper, and it rises hard and fast, spinning and spinning faster and faster until he doesn't have any more room to go. He turns until the man is in his sight, and all of him, all at once, streaks across the room, enveloping the man in the chair.  He can't hear screaming, though he's sure it's there. Can't hear concrete floor breaking, though he's sure it's there. Can't hear a last breathe.  
  
He's not sure if the man even had one.  
  
When he calms down after what feels like hours later, he's laying on a divot in the floor he made, staring up at the ceiling. He's covered in sweat, his clothes aren't doing too well, and his back hurts. When he moves to sit up, there's a pipe cutting into his back which he twists out of the way.  
  
“You alright buddy?” Mr. Kowalski is standing in front of him, a small box of food in his hand. Credence doesn't know how to answer that. No, no is probably the right answer. Mr. Kowalski hands the box to him, and he eats like a starving man. “To be fair.” Mr. Kowalski stars. “If you hadn't I probably would have.”  
  
“I'm sorry, sir.”  
  
“Jacob.” Credence wipes frosting from his mouth with his finger and sticks it back in his mouth before looking up at him.  
  
“I'm sorry, Jacob, sir.”  
  
“Better then nothing, I guess.” Mr. Kowalski gives him a smile. “So, forewarning, Newt's not thrilled.”  
  
“I'll take what ever punishment he gives me, it's alright.”  
  
“What? No- No! He's not- Jesus.” Jacob shakes his head. “I'll go get him.” He shakes his head again, as he leaves the room. And the room, by the way, not doing too great. The floor is wrecked, the walls are cracked, and there's a hole in the ceiling.  
  
“Credence.” He turns. Newt's changed. He's wearing different clothing and a pair of gloves. He must have just been busy.  
  
“I'm sorry sir. I tried to-” He's cut off the second Newt's on the floor next to him, gently taking the box out of his hands.  
  
“We have to work on that.” Credence looks at the floor.  
  
“Is he dead?” Newt doesn't say anything. So. He's killed another person. He dips his head into his knees again, wrapping his arms around himself. “I didn't want to. I swear I didn't want to.”  
  
“I know.” Newt says. There's an edge to his voice, Mr. Kowalski was right. Credence feels a hand in between his shoulder blades. “You didn't want to. What set it off?”  
  
“Freak.” He mumbles. “I can't- I hate it and-”  
  
“Shh.” The hand rubs up and down his back. “It's not okay.” Newt says and Credence takes a sharp intake of air. “Credence, you killed him.”  
  
“I'm sorry.” He feels on the verge of tears.  
  
“I can't pretend that it's okay. But I know you didn't want to. So we just have to work on yourself control.”  
  
“I'm sorry.”  
  
Newt doesn't say much else.  
  
The hand doesn't leave his back.

  
  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ

  
  
“Do you know where they would be?” Queenie asks behind him.  
  
Both of them are glamoured to the nines. It's dangerous for him to be seen outside, but it's getting dark, and he's with someone who can protect him, can keep him from doing something awful. And he's gotten a lot better at not doing that, for what it's worth. Not much, but, he can keep himself whole ninety percent of the time.  
  
“At the old church? Is that where you used to- Oh, right. Sorry.” Queenie's a warm presence at his back. He knows that Ms. Goldstein and Mr. Kowalski and Newt especially hate it when she's in their heads, but it makes things easier for him. “Aww.” She coos at him. He makes a small smile.  
  
“It should be around here.” He says. “Can't you-”  
  
“I don't think it works that way, honey. I can try, but..”  
  
“It's okay.” He sets down the bundle in his hand and lifts a hand to his mouth. He pulls the glove off and puts his finger in his mouth. He makes a sharp whistle.  
  
The kids stumble out of the darkness of the old church. They're slow about it, law enforcement has started cracking down on them, he's heard. He doesn't de-glammer and Queenie stops herself from doing it. He makes a series of hand gestures, something only orphans knew and then it was a lot less touch and go.  
  
“Who are you?” It's the boy with the port mark on his forehead. To think he almost doomed him a little over a year ago.  
  
“Doesn't matter.” He says. “Food.”  
  
“What?” A little girl asks from behind him. “Just like that?”  
  
“Just like that.” He doesn't smile, even though he wants to.  
  
The bundles are charmed to carry more, and he and Queenie pull out all of it. The children squeal with joy. Credence backs up. With the New Salem Philanthropic Society gone, and no one to watch after them, someone should make sure they're fed. Queenie makes a happy noise as she helps the children behind him.  
  
Newt and Mr. Kowalski were very happy with his idea, and Ms. Goldstein had offered to do it in her spare time, but it didn't seem right, at least not the first time. Making food wasn't hard with magic, so why not spread it around?  
  
It's cold when they leave the old church, and Queenie has an arm slung across his shoulders.  
  
“You're so good, you know that?” She asks.  
  
“Not really.” He says. He feels his face heat up and she laughs.  
  
“Take the compliment, darling.” Credence nods.  
  
“Okay. Sure.”  
  
“With feeling this time!” She laughs loud enough that people, those few who are still outside, turn to look at them, and Credence can't help but smile along with her.  
  
“Thank you.” She kisses him on the cheek.  
  
“The best.” She whispers and he laughs with her. “The. Best.”  
  
“You.” He says back and she takes a step away, feigning a gasp.  
  
“You sure know how to compliment a lady, don't you?”  
  
He laughs in earnest.

It feels so so so good.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lesson 3: Sleeping Habits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How vague/ambiguous can I keep their relationship, you tell me. 
> 
> Huge thanks to all the love, all of you are amazing!
> 
> I hope this continues to be good!
> 
> ntbt'd

On the odd occasion, he has nightmares.  
  
It's different from the self loathing, that he's used to, that he can handle but the nightmares are different, somehow too much and not enough to justify his reaction. He used to have them before, before Newt and Graves and all of this, but he always kept quiet then. He would wake someone up, either the children or-- or. Or.  
  
He tires not to think about Chastity or Modesty, if he can help it. He can't tell if it's anger or sadness, but it make his uncomfortable when he does. He doesn't tell anyone about them. He doesn't want to. Nothing pleasant could possibly be there waiting for him, on the other side of that conversation.  
  
Maybe Modesty isn't dead, but Credence has a hard time imagining she would want anything to do with him. Not after that. Not after watching-  
  
Modesty took to the NSPS better then he did. Makes sense now though, he supposes. What with him being a wizard- oh wow, oh wow, oh wow, it makes him feel silly just thinking that, could they not have come up with a better name? He thinks about his ma-- Mary Lou, and her hands. Chastity, he could live without. She was just as awful as Mary Lou was to him. He doesn't miss her. Either of them. He doesn't.  
  
At all.  
  
He swears.  
  
Well, there was a certain stability with them. He knew what to expect, day in day out. It's not something he ever wanted during the-- the abuse, he shouldn't normalize it-- but now, he had no constant schedule, and not that he needed one! It's just- a bit much, some times. He should tell Newt when it gets too much. He should.  
  
He doesn't.  
  
It's stupid, he knows, in his brain, that Newt will take care of him, will be kind, will do whatever is needed to make him safe, comfortable, because that's what Newt is, that's what Newt does, but- He can't bring himself to do it.  
  
He hasn't been with him long! What if the boundary is right there, what if him complaining about something like that would be the straw? What if it would finally snap him to reality, make him realize how worthless-  
  
How worthless Credence was and what if that would be what made Newt turn him to MACUSA or worse, back to Graves?  
  
On another, unrelated note, he's gotten very good at not crying loudly.  
  
Nightmares. He has them sometimes. He's woken up from one right now, as it were, and apparently he was having another bad day. He lays in bed, on his side, his hand covering his mouth and trying to stifle  any noise he might be making. He's curled in on himself, trying to get as much warmth as he can from himself, but he burns cold, and it's lost effort anyway.  
  
It's the middle of the night, he knows, because it's silent in the case. Maybe he could go grab a sweater or something. He didn't have a lot of spare clothing, but they all swore it was alright for him to borrow theirs. He sits up, trying to stay quiet and failing, because things begin to stir as he moves across the floor. Even barefoot, he still makes noise.  
  
He's not graceful, like Queenie or Newt were. He's not certain like Ms. Goldstein or Mr. Kowalski either. He's not much of anything. When he gets to the top of the stair case, the room is silent too.  
  
“Credence?” He freezes. Why was Newt awake? Did he- no, he was up already.  
  
“Mr. Scamander.” Credence turns to look at him. The man is busy making tea. By hand. Odd choice, though maybe he always made it like this.  
  
“Are you alright?”  
  
“Yes sir.” He doubts it's convincing, what with the tears and hard breathing. “I just- it's a bit cold, I was wondering if I could, maybe borrow a sweater, or an extra blanket, or -” He trails off. Newt nudges a chair away with his foot and Credence takes the seat.  
  
“What's wrong?”  
  
“Nothing sir.”  
  
“You've been crying.” There's a saucer with a cup in front of him. Newt's own. The man gets up to go make himself another one, presumably.  
  
“Stress.” Credence mumbles.  
  
“Stress?” Newt asks, his hip rests against the counter. “Is that all?”  
  
“Mmhm.” Credence picks up the cup and brings it to his lips. It tastes bitter. He drinks half of it anyway. Newt watches him, Credence can feel his eyes on him. “It's good.” He says in between sips.  
  
“Right.” Newt makes a noise when the kettle whistle goes off. “If you need a new coat, you can just ask, you know.”  
  
“I'm- yes, sir. Sorry.” He stares down at his hands.  
  
“But that's not the problem, is it?” He's not a good liar. He shakes his head instead. “What's wrong, Credence?” Newt slides into the seat in front of him, with another cup of tea. He's out of options, and he doesn't want to drink anymore of it, so he gets up instead.  
  
“Nothing, sir. Really. Just cold. And Stressed.” He wants to kick himself for that.  
  
“Credence-”  
  
“It's quite alright, sir. I'll just-” He points at the quilt tossed over the couch before grabbing it and descending back into the case. He heads to his bed and throws the quilt over his head. Lord, he's such an idiot. Why is he such an idiot? Why can't he just open his mouth and say what he's thinking? Why is it so hard?  
  
He tries to go back to sleep, but that's not happening. He turns to face the wall, curling into himself again. He does feel warmer, though. At least there's that. He feels the edge of the bed dip and he shuts his eyes.  
  
“Credence, I know you're not asleep.” Newt whispers, and Credence can hear the smile on his lips. “Most people still  breathe when they sleep.” Credence wants to kick himself all over again.  
  
“Maybe Obscurials don't.”  
  
“Maybe.” Newt puts a hand on his hip over the quilt and pats it gently. “Pretty sure they don't talk back though.”  
  
“Sorry.” Credence doesn't turn. “Sir.”  
  
“It's alright, Credence.” The hand on his hip starts to rub gently. Credence doesn't know what to do. “What's wrong?”  
  
“Noth-”  
  
“Credence.”  
  
“Nightmare. I had a nightmare.”  
  
“Want to tell me about it.”  
  
No.  
  
“If you want, sir.”  
  
“I think it might make you feel better.”  
  
He doubts it.  
  
“Just Graves, sir.” And it was, Graves, in part. The other part was his- Mary Lou, and a belt. Newt rubbed his side. It brought more warmth then the quilt did.  
  
“Don't force yourself.” Newt says, instead of the question he was expecting, in his soft voice. The 'he knows but he's humoring you, because he's too nice, and it's not like you're going to say anything about it anyway' voice that Credence didn't like.  
  
“I'm sorry.”  
  
“Credence?”  
  
“Mary Lou. She hit me, across my back, over and over, and Graves stood there and watched. That's what it was. I woke up and it hurt and I know it's not real but it hurt anyway, and it was cold and I didn't know what to do, and I'm sorry.” He rushes. “Sir.” It's an after thought.  
  
One that's been beaten into him, he realizes at that moment.  
  
He half expect Newt to get up and walk away, but that's not Newt. At all. The hand on his side lifts, and for minute, he's convinced, he must have left. It was too much, to earnest, he acted like a freak and now Newt wanted nothing to do with him. He's being stupid, though. Again.  
  
The blanket lifts up, and Newt slides in behind him, an arm around his waist, and another hand brushing his hair down. Warmth floods him like nothing before. He doesn't turn. He doesn't think he's be able to look at him.  
  
“I know it's a lot, Credence, all of this. I'm sorry that it's like this.” He says into the back of Credence's  neck. “I'm sorry that all of this has happened to you.” He continues and Credence has never stared at a wall harder, wow, look at all of those cracks, and is that a stain or old paint? “You don't deserve it. No one does.” Hahahaha would you believe the amount of dust on this wall, gosh, that's just sinful. He has to dust that. Maybe immediately, even. “Credence?”  
  
“Too much.” He squeaks, and he can feel Newt smile against his skin. Lord, in heaven, please, an ounce of mercy. He's been through so much, just throw him a bone.  
  
“I just want you to know that.”  
  
“Yeah, thank you.” He can barely breathe. “Sir.”  Newt moves to get up, and for a second, Credence believes that he has the self control, but no, him, self control, what an absurd though. He reaches and grabs his wrist.  
  
“Sorry.” He can hear the smile he can't see, can't feel. Newt gets back in the bed. Credence continues to stare at the wall.  
  
“Sir?”  
  
“Mmhm.”  
  
“Why were you awake?” Anything to distract him.  
  
“I'm always awake at two in the morning.” It sounds like he's joking. Credence lets it go.  
  
It certainly keeps the nightmares away.

  
  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ

  
  
His back stings when he wakes up with a start. He jolts forward and hits Newt square in the forehead.  
  
“Merlin, why-” He groans. His eyes open slowly, and Credence meets them for a second.  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
“Shh.” He whispers instead. They had a long day of hiking, something in the Puget Sound Newt needed to see, or to find, or whatever, another fancy he needed to chase afterwards, he has a lot of them. They were both bone tired after the day, and Newt magicked them a tent. It was just big enough for them to fit, and there wasn't even any dinner, both of them were out immediately.  
  
Credence had nightmares when he was really tired, sometimes. The sting still sits on his back, red hot heat that Newt's hands are on. He doesn't know what to do when Newt closes his eyes again and pulls him closer.  
  
“Shh.” He's really out of it. Credence wiggles to get away from him until he's out of his grasp. He takes his shirt off and leaves the tent. There's a river not far, and it was cool when they walked past it the first time.  
  
He finds it easily enough, the smell of it cutting through the trees. He cups water in his hands and bends over. He spills it on his back and it feels good, refreshing. He half expects the cold to follow, but he's been getting better at retaining body heat.  
  
He can't find the tent back though so he separates, shooting up into the air and over the trees. When he catches a view of the sky, he has to stop. It's too much, all of a sudden, to pretty to know how to handle it. He finds the tent pretty  quickly. He's solid again, and he's pulling Newt out of it.  
  
“What-”  
  
“Look.” Credence says and points up. Newt does. It looked like every single star was on display tonight, just for them. Maybe they were, who knew. Newt pulls Credence closer to rest his head on his shoulders.  
  
“Small world.” Newt mumbles. “The stars over Hogwarts look the same.” Credence tries not to laugh.  
  
“Same stars.” He tells him.  
  
“I didn't pass astrology.”  
  
“Astronomy.”  
  
“Didn't pass that either.” Credence loosens until Newt tips forward. “I'm sorry, they're very nice.”  
  
“Yeah.” Credence twists around him, warm and happy.  
  
“What, that's all you wanted-”  
  
“Mmhm.” Thirty voice echo back at him.  
  
“I'll put a hole in the next tent for you.” Newt says and stumbles back into the tent. He's out like a light the second his head touches the floor.  
  
Credence solidifies in his arms again, rests his head on Newt's shoulder, and follows suit.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lesson 4: Fur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyy
> 
> I hope you like this.
> 
> Thank you to the mass outpouring of love already! 
> 
>  
> 
> ntbt'd

“Where are you going?” Chastity grabbed his arm before he could disappear out the door. Credence opens his mouth to protest, he doesn't know what to say to make this better, it's not like he could tell the truth. He pulled his arm but she wasn't letting go. Lord, please don't let her call ma, please don't.  
  
“Outside.” He says, trying to pull his coat out of her hand.  
  
“Where outside?” She pulled closer and hissed into his ear.    
  
“Nowhere- Just, I need air, Chastity, please.”  
  
“You're always disappearing somewhere. What if I tell mother, hm? She'll beat you till you're black and blue. Why do you do this to yourself, Credence?”  
  
“Please, don't.” He says.  
  
“You can be good if you try, you can be useful.” She says into his ear.  
  
“I am useful.” Just not to you. He turns to stare at her just as Mary Lou walks down the main steps.  
  
“I doubt that.” There's a smile on her face and but she lets him go. He staggers away from her. “Mother, did you see the new pamphlets?” She called. He brushed his shirt sleeve down and walked out the door before anyone else could have noticed.  
  
It's miserable outside, freezing, with snow coming down. He left his coat inside and he's shaking, but Mr. Graves asked him too. He's supposed to meet him in the usual alley, but right now, he's not really sure if he will even make it there. Why had Mr. Graves asked him to-  
  
“Hey!” He moves out of the way of who ever he bumped into and rushes to the alley. His hands feel numb when he gets there. He waits maybe five minutes before Mr. Graves is there.  
  
“Hello Credence.”  
  
“Hello Mr. Graves.”  
  
“Are you cold, Credence?” Mr. Graves moves closer to him, the man's gloved hands finding his. Credence stares down at their hands and nods. “Poor boy. Here.” Mr. Graves lifts Credence's fingers to his own mouth and whispers a spell into them. Credence revels in the sudden warmth, sure, but he revels at Mr. Graves' lips more. They're so soft! He didn't know men could have lips that soft. “Come along.”  
  
Credence doesn't even notice Mr. Graves begin to walk away. Credence trailed after him like a dog, rubbing his hands over his arms, trying to spread any warmth he could. Mr. Graves eventually ushers him into a small shop, and Credence has to step on his own foot to keep himself from rushing to the fire.  
  
“Sir?” He asks, and Mr. Graves puts a hand on his shoulder before hailing over a clerk.  
  
“He'll need a coat.” Mr. Graves says and as the retail worker walks off to get a measuring tape, Credence's eyes turn wide.  
  
“Sir?” He asks, much more urgently.  
  
“It's a gift, Credence. For New Years. You've been so-” Mr. Graves walks him over to the fire and rubs his shoulder. “So, so helpful to me. And I've seen your coat, you could do with a new one.” Credence was horrendously flustered at all of this.  
  
“Sir-”  
  
“I won't take no for an answer.” And he winks as he moves to take a seat in one of the plush armchairs in the middle of the room as the assistant lifts up a measuring tape. Credence goes along with the assistant, mostly because he doesn't, he can't figure out what to do. What does that mean? What does- why is he doing this?  
  
“Sir?”  
  
“Credence?” Credence feels a flush rise up to his ears.  
  
“I can't sir.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Everyone will-” It's hard to talk when someone is wrapping tape around his hips. “I can't explain where I would-”  
  
“Oh, don't worry about that. Just take the gift, Credence.”  
  
“I really can't sir-” The assistant leaves and another swings around, pressing a cup of something warm into his hands before pushing him into a chair. He's being pulled around like a doll and he can't even fight it. “Please.”  
  
“Dark blue, dark green, black, anything you have is fine.” Mr. Graves says with a smile on his face. He turns back to Credence and the smile is replaced with something placating. And the voice. Credence feels red again and tries to hide his face in his cup. It's coffee and it's bitter. He drinks it and burns his tongue. “Credence.”  
  
“Sir.” He mumbles.  
  
“Are you unhappy with me? Have I done something wrong to you? Have I hurt you, Credence? Upset you?”  
  
“No!” He says to loudly and people stare at him. “No, no.” He shakes his head. “It's just-”  
  
“Then why are you being difficult?” Mr. Graves crosses the distance between them and kneels down next to him, and doesn't speak until Credence is looking down at him. When he tries to take another long drink, Graves pulls the cup out of his hands and sets it at the table.  
  
“I'm sorry-”  
  
“That's not what I asked, Credence. It's easy, if you don't like something, just tell me.”  
  
“I-”  
  
“Do you not like something, Credence.”  
  
Credence feels lost. He shakes his head helplessly. No, of course he isn't unhappy. Mr. Graves cares about him, tells him things, treats him like he's special. He's going to give him a gift, he shows him magic! He's happy, right? He likes Mr. Graves. The soft touches and the attention hits him, makes him feel whole.  
  
“No, Mr. Graves. Sir. I'm happy.”  
  
“Good.” Mr. Graves claps his hands together just as the assistant returns with two coats. “Give us a smile.”  
  
It must look as awkward as he feels because the assistant makes a face, but Mr. Graves is happy. The two coats, one in navy on in dark green feel rough, the fabric new and harsh, but they're warm. He can't complain. Mr. Graves looks at him, makes a spinning gesture which Credence feels stupid for following then shakes his head.  
  
“No, black. Go find something in black. And shorter.” After that, Credence is sat back down, and Mr. Graves sits with one leg crossed over the knee in front of him. He doesn't say anything else, just watches Credence with what feels like a dangerous amount of attention.  When the shopkeeper brings back another coat, Mr. Graves smiles and takes it out of the man's hands. “Up.” He says and Credence goes up.  
  
Mr. Graves slides the coat on him, brushing down the sides with a gentleness usually reserved for healing. He moves them to a full body mirror before reaching around him to do the buttons closed. His head rests on Credence's shoulder and he stares into the mirror. Credence stares too.  
  
“Do you like it?”  
  
“Yes sir.” It's a tight fitting coat, but it's intricate, careful. The fabric is plush, a bit rough to his fingers, but it'll keep the cold out, he thinks. A bit short though, he wishes it was longer, but if Mr. Graves asked for it to be like this, there must be a reason.  
  
“We'll take it.” Mr. Graves calls before leaning away and turning Credence around to face him. “There, wasn't so painful, was it.”  
  
“No, sir.” Credence mumbles. He stares at the floor. “Thank you, sir. For the gift.” He doesn't even think to ask how much it's worth. It seems rude at this point. It doesn't look cheap though. The thought that Mr. Graves thinks he deserves something more then something cheap makes him feel odd inside.  
  
“Happy New Years, Credence.” Mr. Graves smiles.  
  
Credence feels undone.  
  


  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ  
  


  
It's snowing outside when he makes his way out of the case in the morning. Ms. Goldstein and Queenie are already drinking coffee by the window, but Mr. Kowalski was no where to be seen. It's pretty cold in the apartment, but it's nothing he's not used to. There's a tea cup waiting on the counter for him which he gladly takes and pours in his tea. Honey and milk go in afterwards, and he mixes it quietly from the table.  
  
“Any plans for the day, honey?” Queenie calls. Whatever it is they're watching outside the window must be really interesting, because neither of them turn.  
  
“Not really.” He says and drinks. The warm liquid down his throat makes him shiver in a good way. He didn't know what to do with himself on the days when everyone had work, other then spend time with Newt in the case. Not that he minded that, either.  
  
“That's nice dear.” Ms. Goldstein says. He picks up his cup to go look outside the window, the curiosity getting to him.  
  
It's a winter wonderland outside. Like the thing that people imagine from fairy tales or something. There's not a single thing not covered in white and children are running around having a snowball fight downstairs. He stares too.  It's cold by the window, but the tea keeps him functioning, at least. It's pretty engaging, trying to figure out which child was going to win. And the snow was beautiful.  
  
“Parade?” All three of them jump. Mr. Kowalski is standing behind them, his hands up in defense. “Sorry, sorry.” He laughs. “All three of you stuck like that, I was getting worried.” All three of them turn away in embarrassment. Credence finishes his tea in one big gulp and goes to wash it to get away from the situation.  
  
He has some toast for breakfast, Ms. Goldstein fries it for him in a second, and he eats it quickly. It's done perfect, he doesn't know how she does it.  
  
“Anyone seen Newt yet?” Mr. Kowalski asks.  
  
“He's working.” Credence says. He was, doing something in the front room of the case that Credence was too drowsy to pay attention to when he slumped past him earlier.  
  
“That's just another way to say neglecting himself.” Ms. Goldstein says. Credence doesn't really know how to respond to that. “Take him his breakfast?” That he nods to. He takes the plate he's given in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. He makes his way down the stairs carefully, and Newt is still busy doing something.  
  
“Ms. Goldstein made breakfast sir.” Credence says. He doesn't set the food down though, it's too dangerous until he get's the okay from Newt.  
  
“That's good.” He's distracted with whatever he's doing.  
  
“Sir?”  
  
“Mmhm.”  
  
“The food?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Sir.” Credence walks over to him, nudging him as best he can. Newt looks up sharply, his eyes blinking into focus before rushing to take the plate out of Credence's hand. He sets it next to him. “Sir?” He holds out the mug and Newt plucks it out of his hand and goes directly for a swig. He sets it next to a jar of something.  
  
“Thank you Credence.” Newt says. As Credence nods and moves to walk back up, Newt makes a noise. “Hold on, come back for a second.” He does and Newt turns around with a bundle of black fabric. “Here.” He sticks it out in one hand. “Heat charm sown in.”  
  
Credence unfurls it and stares. It's his coat, the coat Graves gave him, the coat he was sure Mr. Kowalski threw away, starring back at him. He tugs it on in mute horror. The warmth is instantaneous, though, and it hits him like concrete.  
  
“Credence, what's wrong?” Newt's up and in his space almost immediately.  
  
“Nothing-” His voice cracks through the sir.  
  
“No, Credence, what's wrong?” Newt's fingers brush away tears.  
  
“Graves-” Newt pulls the coat off of him immediately and it's easier to breath. Like a weight has been removed from his shoulders.  
  
“I didn't know, Credence, I promise I didn't know.” Newt shakes his hands. He shrinks back. “I didn't think, I just found it and you- You're always cold, Credence I'm sorry.”  He's vibrating now. Lord, Child. He's a child. He's a stupid child. He shrinks down to his knees, curling up on himself a bit. “I didn't think, Credence, I'm so so sorry.”  
  
He's overwhelmed again. It takes him a while to calm down, and Newt has a hand on his shoulder the entire time, patiently waiting.  
  
“I'm sorry.” He mumbles. “I- I thought Mr. Kowalski had-”  
  
“It's my fault, Credence, you don't have to be sorry for anything. Come on. Come on.” He pulls him up to his feet and takes him to where his bed is. Newt sits him down. Credence sits. What else is he going to do? Newt disappears for a while and when he comes back, he's with Queenie and Mr. Kowalski. Newt gives him something.  
  
A sweater, a yellow and black lined sweater that is maybe the softest thing he's ever held in his hands. He looks up at Newt who nods back at him. He tugs it over his shirt, and it's warm. It's so so warm, but it's not a heat charm this time. It's not a wall, its a pond instead.  
  
“Are you warm enough like that to go out?” Mr. Kowalski asks.  
  
“S-sir?”  
  
“We'll buy you a new coat, doll. Just have to get one that fits, is all.” Queenie smiles at him.  
  
“Kind of hard to do if you aren't there.” Mr. Kowalski follows suit.  
  
“No, I can't-”  
  
“How about a magic one?” He didn't even notice Ms. Goldstein standing at the doorway, he was sure she had left already. “One from MACUSA. Softest things in the world.” She smiles. “Guaranteed to keep out evil wizards.”  
  
“I-”  
  
“If you want, Credence.” Mr. Kowalski says.  
  
“We can work up to it.” Newt says. “You can wear that in the mean time.”    
  
“I don't-”  
  
“It's okay.” Ms. Goldstein says. “No rush. Queenie can sneak one, right?” Queenie nods enthusiastically. “There you go. We'll transfigure it into your size. You don't even have to go out.” This type of thing, this overwhelming warmth envelops him. It's not a pond, he was wrong about that. “What do you say?”  
  
He nods.  
  
The other three adults let out a sigh of relief and Newt puts a hand on his shoulder.  
  
It's an ocean.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set up chapters are fun, right? 
> 
> ntbt'd

Credence stands in front of the Occamy nest.  
  
One of the smaller ones, which is a bit hard to explain away, but the thing never gets as big as the others, nips at his fingers and he smiles at it. It's quiet in the case, it has been all morning, and when he woke up, Newt was no where to be seen. He went about his chores, animal after animal. He wonders if Newt has somewhere bigger to keep all of them.  
  
The tiny occamy tries to slither up his shirt sleeve, but Credence keeps it out. Not that he doesn't want it there, he does, he likes everyone in the case, but he's too cold and the occamy is still technically a reptile.  It makes a hissing noise as he grips it between two fingers and drops it down on one of the bigger ones before continuing his rounds.    
  
The niffler is gone again, and Credence hopes it's in the apartment and not lost in New York. It's kind of hard to track it down when it gets like that. When Newt wasn't watching Credence gave it the weird triangle charm Graves gave him. The niffler got more joy out of it then he did, and he wanted nothing to do with it.  
  
The mooncalfs are asleep. He doesn't mind them, or blame them. He'd be asleep right now if he could too. It's grey outside, pouring down rain. He gets down and pets at one of them. It makes a noise and roles over on it's other side. Just as Credence is about to start petting again, there's some rustling in the main room that distracts him from the mooncalfs.  
  
He stands in the door way and watches as the Swooping Evil flits around the room aggressively. That's odd. Newt never leaves the case without it. Credence doesn't really know what to do to make it calm down, Newt's never taught him, apparently to dangerous, but it's getting more and more frantic. Credence puts his hands up, like he's seen Newt do before, but it doesn't seem to do anything.  
  
When it starts beating against the glass, Credence starts to get nervous. A part of him drops out, his lower back, he thinks. He pulls himself back together, before he gets an idea. He lifts up his right arm and watches it dissipate. The obscuris corners the thing and it seems to calm down a fair bit. Fear maybe? It's a handy trick to have. Handy. He smiles at his own dumb joke before crossing the distance.  
  
He puts a hand on it's back, the corporeal one and brushes a finger along it's spine. It likes that, apparently, because it contracts almost immediately. The cocoon undulates in his hand, like a really aggressive heart beat. He doesn't know where to put it. His clothes don't have pockets and it's a bug right? Technically? It would be too cold for it under his shirt. He holds it in his hand instead.  
  
He waters the erumpet before he hears something in the main room and then all of a sudden, foot steps down the latter.  
  
“Credence! Credence!” That's Newt, at least. He sticks his head out of the safari room. “Credence, good-” He looks out of breathe, and he's shaking from something, rain still dripping off of him.  
  
“You left Swooping Evil.” He sticks his hand out. Newt looks at it before violently patting himself down.  
  
“So I did.” He mumbles. “It likes you, though. Hang on to that. Tina-” As soon as Newt mentions Ms. Goldstein, there's a rattling at the main room. He thinks he hears muffled screaming.  
  
“Is that..?”  
  
“Tina? Sure is. There's a bit of a work disagreement going on, right now. She's gone a bit mad. Happens to all of us.” He offers a smile. It doesn't reach his eyes.  
  
“What's wrong, sir?”  
  
“Well-” There's more noise from the main room and he hears footsteps. Newt dips behind him and disappears. Queenie and Ms. Goldstein are standing in front of him now, Ms. Goldstein looks very put upon.  
  
“Where is he.” It doesn't sound like a question. Credence looks behind him, it seems like a dead end. Credence turns back and watches her sigh bodily. Queenie gives him a wink before she goes to look for him.  
  
“Is something wrong, miss?”  
  
“Nothing, Credence. Just something came up at work.”  He watches as Ms. Goldstein sits down and rubs her temples. Must be frustrating, whatever it is. Swooping Evil thumps against his palm and he loosens his fist.  It unfurls and crawls onto – glides onto his shoulder where it picks at his ear lightly. “That thing eats brains.” Ms. Goldstein says without looking up.  
  
“I think we found a middle ground.” Credence mumbles and drags his fingers down it's long spine. It really likes that, makes a … chirping.... noise?  
  
“I found him!” Queenie calls from another part of the case.  
  
“Should I go?” Credence watches as Newt gets levitated over.  
  
“As you like, dear.” Queenie says.  
  
He hasn't had his tea yet.  
  
He leaves the suit case with Swooping Evil perched on his shoulder. The apartment is empty, Mr. Kowalski probably out at work. He had a hard time keeping track of time, of days of the week and such. He spent a lot of time in the suit case. He didn't go out much either, to dangerous, he wasn't sure for who though, him or the random people on the street.  
  
He should find Modesty, where ever she is. It would be something to do.  
  
He makes his tea and sits at the empty dinner table and stares out the window, watching the rain his against the glass.  
  
He hates it. The quiet that trails after him.  
  
He doesn't want to go back. He never wants to go back, but there was order and there was structure and  now there wasn't anything.  
  
He fidgets with his cup. Swooping Evil makes another trilling noise and rubs against his ear. It's scales scratch at his skin. He closes his eyes and tries to think about something else, but he regrets it almost immediately.  
  
Graves, always in the back of his mind, with his soft hands on Credence's back, his arms, his neck, his-----------  
  
He stands up sharply, his cup clattering against the table and Swooping Evil's talons sinking into his shoulder. Good. Good. Good. He deserves this. Going to church would be something to do. He sighs out loud and there's a noise from the silverware drawer as he does so.  
  
Well at least the niffler hasn't gotten out. He goes to retrieve the thing before it disappears all the knives again. The niffler twists around in his hands while he scratches all of the shiny garbage it's found out of it. It makes sad noises that Credence tries to ignore.  
  
“I already gave you the necklace, don't complain at me.” The niffler settles after that. A thing Credence has never understood was how they all understood him, when no one else aside from Newt could get them to listen. Maybe it was because he was a beast, just like them. A sort of solidarity.  
  
He goes back to sit at the table, the niffler eyes his mixing spoon and makes grabby motions before Credence nudges it over. What's one spoon. He drinks what's left of his tea while watching the niffler wave the spoon back and forth, trying to catch some light on it.  
  
Swooping Evil  glides onto the table to stare at Credence, and he doesn't know what to do with that either.  
  
He lives in a state of confusion.  
  
At least with the--  
  
No.  
  
No.  
  
It's better.  
  
It's better now.  
  
He's better now.  
  
He's a good person now.  
  
He's not a monster anymore.  
  
Not a freak anymore.  
  
Swooping Evil gurgle chirps at him before rolling it's self into the cocoon. Credence picks it up and feels it thump against his hand again. The niffler rolls against his other hand, still brandishing the spoon.  
  
He doesn't know why he's crying all of a sudden, but he does that a lot now.  
  
He moves to sit on the couch, dragging the quilt over his shoulders and around the two creatures. They trill and vibrate in his hands, little heart beats that hit almost in tune with his very slow one. It has to be very slow, because if his heart beat fast and he shifted into an obscuris he might hurt himself.  
  
He must fall asleep because when he opens his eyes the rain has stopped and it's dark out. Mr. Kowalski is busy baking something that smells sweet a few feet away from him. Newt and Queenie and Ms. Goldstein are nowhere to be seen, so he guesses they're still in the case, fighting about whatever. The niffler curled into a ball on his stomach and Swooping Evil has unfolded on his chest. He has a pillow under his head, and he guess Mr. Kowalski put it there.  
  
He stirs a little, careful to not move the two animals on him. Mr. Kowalski notices him.  
  
“About to be done with the buns in a few.” He calls.  
  
“Thank you, sir.” He knows that Mr. Kowalski knows that the sugar buns are Credence's favorites. He also knows that Mr. Kowalski only makes them when he's sad.  
  
“Made some friends?”  
  
“Seems that way sir.” He brings a finger down the long column or Swooping Evil.  
  
“More impressive then what I did today.” Mr. Kowalski says. He tells Credence about how an oven broke and was sending smoke into the second floor instead of out the chimney and he had to deal with the very irate neighbor. “Listen, listen, I'm not saying anything, but if you choose to live above a bakery, you have to  know stuff like this happens from time to time.”  
  
“This happened before?” Credence would think that Mr. Kowalski would ask someone to fix it if that were the case.  
  
“Well, no- but it's a liability. You have to make smart business choices, Credence.” Credence nods along dutifully. “You have any idea where the rest of them are?”  
  
“They were in the case earlier, sir. Think Newt must have done something wrong.”  
  
“When doesn't he?” Mr Kowalski opens the ice box and something that sounds like glass. They sit in silence for a while. Credence looks out the window, and the fog has picked up. “Kid?” Credence turns his head carefully. “You alright?”  
  
Credence doesn't really know how to answer that. He says as much and Mr. Kowalski gives him a big smile.  
  
“That's why I made sugar buns. And milk. I mean, I didn't make the- Here.” Credence scoops up the niffler and  presses Swooping Evil to his chest as he goes to sit at the table again.  
  
“Thank you sir.”  
  
“All in a day's work.” Mr. Kowalski says before sitting across from him and biting into his own sweet. Credence eats and it tastes as good as it always does.  
  
How could he compare what he had to this? How could he dare do that? Even in his own head, how could he be so ungrateful at all of this. He drinks his milk and hides his smile when he looks across the table to see Mr. Kowalski's mustache drenched in white.

  
  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ

  
  
He lays in bed, starring up at the ceiling. He knew he shouldn't have slept during the day, he knew he shouldn't have. There's not a lot he could do now, with it being as late, or even as early as it was right now.  He doesn't know if he should even bother getting up from bed.  
  
His mind wanders places he doesn't want it to go while he stares at the ceiling so he gets up and walks around the case. Maybe it'll tire him out.  
  
Newt is up, in the main room, working on something Credence can't see. He's just as shocked to see Newt as Newt is when he notices him.  
  
“Bad dream?” He asks and Credence shakes his head. “Bad day?” He continues.  
  
“I don't know. Maybe.”  
  
“It happens to all of us sometimes.” He says. “Do you want to-” He drags off, his hand in the air, making a wave motion.  
  
“Not really.” Credence doesn't want to ruin that. It's special and the situation at hand isn't bad enough to warren it.  
  
“Mm. That's okay too.” Newt says, and what ever he's holding turns a bright blue. Swooping Evil springs out of his hands as soon as that happens and flits over to Credence, sitting on his shoulder again, waiting for Credence to pet it. “It's really taken a liking to you.”  
  
“I like it too.” He says. A butterfly monster, his only friend. “Why are you up, sir?”  
  
“I'm always up at two in the morning.” He says again, and this time, Credence realizes it's not intended to be a joke. “Not enough time in the day.” He gives a quick smile before going back to work on what ever the blue thing is.  
  
“Sir?”  
  
“I'm almost done.” He says and sounds much younger then he is. Credence nods. Swooping Evil hums in his ear.  
  
“Sir, you said I could ask for anything.”  
  
“Of course, Credence.”  
  
“Could you-” He's scared of saying the words out loud. They hurt him so much the last time. “Could you teach me magic, sir. Just a spell to make sleep easier.”  
  
Newt drops what he's doing and Swooping Evil zips from him to catch the glass vials before they hit the ground.  
  
“Sorry.” Newt says, which, that's not his line, but Credence stays quiet. “I don't know any spell like that, Credence.”  
  
“It's okay, sir. I was just thinking out loud. It doesn't matter.” Swooping Evil glides back to him just as he's about to turn and leave. He's made enough of an idiot out of himself, and it's bad enough he's making Mr. Scamander into a liar.  
  
“No, no Credence, you should ask Tina. She's better at actual magic then me, but-” He springs up and opens another cupboard, pulling out a glass jug. “I've got dreamless sleep, if you want it. Not too much, and it tastes like death rolled over, but-” There's a cup in his hands filled with something that looks more like sludge that liquid.  
  
“You don't have to poison me sir, if you want me to leave, I  can just go, it's-”  
  
“It's a potion, Credence, my potions professor brewed it for me before I le- got kicked out of Hogwarts.  One cup full, dreamless sleep, it'll put you out like a light.”  
  
“Potions are real?” He held the thing up to Swooping Evil and it lurched away with an unhappy noise. “I thought that was just fairy tale stuff.”  
  
“Most of magic bleeds into muggle society, one way or another. It helps if you don't smell it first.” Newt's watching him. Maybe it's out of curiosity, to see what whatever this filth will do to his obscuris, but that seems too cruel. He closes his eyes and drinks.  
  
It tastes like bad communion wine, the kind that was left open in the sun for too long on a hot New York day. It makes him gag and reminds him of standing behind a pastor with Chastity and making small faces at Modesty across rows of people.  
  
“Take Swooping Evil with you, it helps to-” The floor slips from under him, and Newt is there, holding him up immediately. “Shh, shh, I've got you. I didn't think it-”  
  
“I didn't think it would hit you that hard.” Graves says, with a smile on his face and a hand on Credence's neck, rubbing it back and forth aggressively. “Easy, Easy, I've got you. I've got you darling, let's get you to a couch before you pass out.”  
  
“Credence?” Newt's voice is far away.  
  
The couch is soft, plush under his hands. Graves smiles and takes another long sip off his drink. Credence watches it, watches Graves' throat work at the liquid.  
  
“Here, let me-” He feels something warm get pulled over his head but Graves pats his knee and everything gets sort of fuzzy.  
  
“Just go to sleep, special boy. I'll wake you before you have to be back, promise.” It's a lie. He knows it's a lie but he sleeps anyway.  
  
He knew he shouldn't sleep during the day but he-  
  
Newt is standing over him, wide eyed and out of breath. Swooping Evil has it's fangs in Credence's hip and that snaps him to attention much better then anything else could. There's no poison, just a sharp sensation before Credence plucks Swooping Evil out of his leg and into his arms, nuzzling himself into it's sharp wings.  
  
“You're alright?” Credence nods. “I'm so sorry. I am so, so sorry. I didn't think-”  
  
“Graves got me drunk, once.” Credence whispers into Swooping Evil's skull. “He did something to the drink, to make me fall asleep and he kept me late. Ma hit me black and blue when I got home.” Newt has a hand to his mouth, his eyes somehow even wider then before. He looks green. Swooping Evil rubs against Credence.  
  
“I'm so-”  
  
“It's alright. You- you didn't mean to, so.” He feels a bit wibbly,  at the edges. His vision gets blurry again. He realizes he's in his yellow and black sweater, and that Swooping Evil bunched it's self up in his hand. “Ms Goldstein said I should talk about it.”  
  
“Credence-” There's the pity he hates so much.  
  
“It's-”  
  
“It's not. It's not okay. No part of what he did to you-” Newt has to stand up and walk a little, too angry to continue. “You don't deserve it. Any of it. What he did to wasn't okay- you know that, you have to-”  
  
“What about what I did to him?” He asks. The words flew out of his mouth before he knew what he did. “Did he-”  
  
“Shh.” Newt has a hand on his forehead and it's warm. Warm and good.  
  
“I wanted what he did- so much I- I couldn't stand it and when he asked me to I- I was so happy to do what ever he wanted and-”  
  
“Credence, it's not okay.” Newt says in his absolutely 100% magic voice. Credence feels a wave off calm roll over him. With Newt's hand on his forehead, he believes him. They don't move, don't talk, don't do anything for a few minutes, before he gets tired again.  
  
“Don't leave me.” He mumbles.  
  
“I'm right here, Credence. I'm right here.” 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was like pulling teeth, and I don't know why!
> 
> Either way, I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Also, some people got very excited about my page breaker on tumblr, so I'm also very glad you like it.  
> …ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ
> 
> ntbt'd

“Ms. Goldstein?”  
  
“Mhm?” She looks up from her cup of coffee. Swooping Evil chirps in his ear and nuzzles it's head into his.  
  
It's another rainy day, and Ms. Goldstein had one of her few off work days today. Credence had already spent three hours trying to work the nerve up to go upstairs, and now that he's standing in the living room he's nervous all over again.  
  
“Are you busy?” He asks, scratching at his hand. Swooping Evil chirps again, flitting restlessly.  
  
“Not really, do you need something?”  
  
“Uh, yeah. I was-” He takes a deep breathe. It's a hard question to ask. The last two times he's done it, it blew up in his face spectacularly.  
  
“What is it Credence?”  
  
“I was wondering if you could teach me magic?” He talks faster and higher then he usually does, but it's mostly because he can barely form the words anymore. This is so nerve racking. “Just a few spells.” He rushes. Swooping Evil rubs it's head against his, as a sign of what he chooses to see as affection or pride.  
  
Ms. Goldstein sets her coffee down, and brushes her hands. Credence doesn't know what to do, how he'll handle a rejection right now.  
  
“I'd love to.” She smiles and Credence has to take a minute to actually realize what she said. “We'll get you a training wand, it'll be great.” She's up and tugging her coat back on. “I'll be back in thirtyish minutes.” She's out the door before Credence is fully aware of what happened.  
  
“Okay.” He mumbles but the door's shut before he even opens his mouth.  
  
He sits on the couch and waits.  
  
She comes back about half an hour later with a wand in her hand a  huge smile on her face.  
  
“Here.” She rushes straight into a form and Credence is so thrilled he doesn't have to ask for anything else. He's eager when he takes the wand and gets up to take the same form. “We'll do wingardium leviosa first. It's easy.” She makes the hand gesture and says the word and up goes the coffee cup she was using earlier.  
  
“Right.” She sets it back down for him and he tries to repeat to motion.  
  
Absolutely nothing happens.  
  
“No, hey.” She smiles. “No one gets it right the first time. Magic it-” She's excited now, talking with her hands. “It's all about intent. You just think about what you want to happen and then imagine your magic like an extension of yourself doing that. Go again.”  
  
The cup continues to remain on the table.  
  
“Keep trying. It took Queenie five minutes and it took me five days. There's no rush when it comes to this sort of thing.”  
  
The cup doesn't move for the rest of the day.  
  
It's... disheartening to say the least. He doesn't know if he's doing something wrong or if the wand is broken or if Newt and Mr. Graves are liars. Ms. Goldstein gradually deflates too. You can only be excited for so long, he guesses.  
  
The cup doesn't move the next day either and now he's frustrated at the stupid thing. He could move it easily with his hand, and he can move it easily with his obscuris so why can't he make his magic work? He's tried it with out the words and with different hand movements and nothing works.  
  
“It's alright, Credence, just keep trying.” She tells him and he's just getting angrier and angrier at it.  
  
It doesn't move on the third day either and he's up a wall because of it for five minutes before he can get back down. Mr. Graves said he saw magic in him. Newt said he had a lot of it, so where was it?! Why can't he use it?!

Why is he always so useless at everything!?  
  
He throws his wand across the room and waves his arms in frustration.  
  
The cup shatters the exact moment the want brakes against the floor.  
  
Ms. Goldstein looks at the broken wand, and then at the shards of glass on the table and jumps with excited peals of laughter.  
  
“You did it!” She cheers and she's bouncing.  
  
He did do it.  
  
And it felt so good to finally, finally get something right.  
  


  
  
…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ

  
  
  
“I know you don't want him anywhere near this but-”  
  
“But nothing, I don't want him anywhere near any of this, you got it in one, good job.”  
  
“How long have they been fighting?” Mr. Kowalski asks from the counter. Credence shrugs. It's been a while. Swooping Evil twists around in his hands while he tries to pet it's wings down, but it's having none of it. No one seems happy. “Do you know what they're fighting about?”  
  
“They didn't tell me.” Ms. Goldstein and Newt have been at each others throats ever since she stormed into the suitcase with Queenie looking for him.     
  
The rain beats down pretty hard. It seems like a hurricane might be around the corner, because it sounds like someone is pelting the roof with baseballs. Queenie went out to the store. Credence hopes she isn't getting wet right now.  
  
“Newt, I'm asking to be nice-”  
  
“You can ask all you want, I told you absolutely not.”  
  
The niffler rubs against his ankle before scurrying up his pant leg to sit on the table. Swooping Evil thrashes in his hands, biting at his fingers. The day isn't going great.  
  
“Credence is an adult!” Ms. Goldstein yells. “He should be able to make his own choices!”  
  
“Not about this!” Newt yells back. Everyone freezes, at least momentarily. Credence looks up. Newt's chest is heaving, he's a little red, and his fists are clenched tight at his side.  
  
Credence has never heard Newt Scamander yell before. By the looks around the room, neither has anyone else.  
  
“Credence-” Ms. Goldstein begins.  
  
“Stop.” Newt says.  
  
“Credence, there's something-”  
  
“Stop it.” Newt interrupts again.  
  
“They found Graves!” She finally yells.  
  
Credence's blood goes cold. His heart stops. He's in the air in an instant, incorporeal and growing and growing and growing until something opens the glass and he slips outside into the rain. He dips higher until he settles on the roof, or along it at least.  
  
He hasn't had a break down in a while. He thought he was getting better. He was- getting better. Maybe it was stupid to think that he could just magically get better if he just pretended Mr. Graves never entered his life.  
  
He thrashes back and forth for a while, ripping tiles as he went, watching them plummet down to the street below. He can't shift back solid, even though tries. It's too stressful, the knowledge that there is a Mr. Graves that's not in prison. He feels ripples of rain rip through him and it's a horrendously unappealing feeling.  
  
Everything is an unappealing feeling.  He spins and spins and spins in a circle because it's something to do and because he can't handle being around people right now. He feels sick. Incoherent. Cold.  
  
He's always so fucking cold.  
  
The sky gets darker as he spins around and he guesses time is passing. He wills himself to he base of the roof, and pulls himself back together into one piece. He feels wet, all of the clothes he was wearing pressed against his skin, and fucking cold again. It drove him up a wall. He didn't even like the cold. Maybe it would be less bad if he could just warm up, but nothing works anymore.  
  
He sits on the edge of the soaked roof in his soaked clothes and stares out on the horizon. He was right about the hurricane. The thing is sweeping in slowly but surely. They're far enough from a coast so they should be okay, but the wind whips at his clothes and his hair and the rain tries it's hardest to matte them down. There's smoke coming off of him, the obscuris not fully settled back under his skin. His hands grip the tiles.  The wind hits him harder and he finally caves.  
  
He screams.  
  
Not even words just loud incoherent, primal yelling.  
  
Now that he's doing it he's realized he's wanted to do this for years.  
  
So he sits on the roof and just screams as the storm gets worse and worse around him.  
  
When he tires himself out and his throat is in agony he separates and slips back in through the window. When he solidifies inside he almost steps into a pot.  
  
“Credence!” He looks up and Mr. Kowalski and Queenie are starring at him. “You're okay!” Queenie rushes up to him to help him upright. Mr. Kowalski rushes past him to close the window and to stop letting the rain in. Great. Another thing that's ruined because of him. Well, it explains the pots, at least. 

“Let's get you warmed up, alright?” She takes out her wand and it sounds like a cruel joke.  
  
“I'm alright.” He mumbles. He knows she doesn't mean it like that but it hurts anyway. “I'll go change out of this.”  
  
He gets into the suitcase before either of them can say anything.  
  
“Credence.” Newt was busy passing when Credence walked down the stairs.  
  
“I'm sorry.” He mumbles. Newt shakes his head.  
  
“Come on.” He reaches out a hand and Credence takes it. He trails after him to a bath tub set in what has become their room. Newt turns around and waits for Credence to undress and he charms the water warm immediately afterwards. Credence got in and bent his knees towards himself. “You don't have to do anything. It doesn't matter what Tina says, alright?”  
  
Newt waves his wand and Credence's damp clothes fly off into another room.

"I don't want to talk about it."  
  
Credence can't bring himself to say anything after that, so Newt pulls up a chair and starts reading some of his book out loud. Credence doesn't talk for the rest of the night. Newt pets his hair and doesn't ask him to. 

**Author's Note:**

> [iamalivenow](http://iamalivenow.tumblr.com/) is me on tumblr, come say hi, I'm nice, I swear. 
> 
> I take requests there!
> 
> Comments always appreciated!
> 
> If you make anything, please tell me!
> 
> ✧*｡٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و✧*｡


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